Wednesday, August 19, 2020

Feast of Saint Mary the Virgin - August 15, 2020


First of all, I want to thank you for allowing me to do this today.  I have dreamt of it ever since I was a little girl.  Not preaching per se, but of the opportunity to honor the mystery of this most intriguing saint of whom we know so little and nevertheless meet so often in our liturgical life.  


When I was a little girl growing up in an immigrant Catholic church, this day was observed as part of a cycle that ended with the Coronation of the Blessed Virgin Mary as Queen of heaven, and we celebrated by processing through the streets with a garlanded statue of Our Lady which was crowned with roses by a little girl from the church.  I never got the chance to be that little girl, shy as I was, and I feel grateful now, however shy I am, to do the honors by preaching today.


Yet, I am acutely aware that here, today, in this Church, it is not the Feast of the Coronation, or the Assumption, or the Dormition as it is observed in other churches, but simply of Saint Mary the Virgin.  And while our collect for the day offered a nod to today as her death day, and whatever else may have accompanied it, it is still simply the Feast of Saint Mary.  And what strikes me as so significant about this is that while most saints’ whole lives are celebrated only on their death day, we are blessed throughout the year with a multitude of Marian feasts, from her conception and nativity to her annunciation and visitation, birthing and purification.  We get to celebrate the saintliness of her life not all in one day, but drawn out over the course of our own lives.  So, what then do we celebrate about her on this day in our lives?


Well I would say her death, primarily.  It is traditionally her death day after all.  But our readings this morning offer nothing about her death which is not scripturally recorded.  Instead we are given striking parallels between Mary’s Magnificat – her song to God, to us about God – and the prophets who came before her, in Isaiah and in the Psalmist.  And what this suggests is that importance of a saint’s death – the close of her earthly life – is in what defined her life.  And what little we have of Mary in Scripture, so often a silent character in the background of Jesus’ story, is defined by this most powerful song.  And what is so powerful about it is how subversive it is, even among the other prophets.


I was mildly surprised by the lectionary decision to parallel Mary’s Magnificat with Isaiah’s song rather than Hannah’s, or even Miriam’s, which it so closely resembles in form.  “My heart rejoices in the Lord; my strength is exalted in the Lord,” begins Hannah’s song.  “I will sing to the Lord, for he is highly exalted” begins Miriam’s.  And then Isaiah’s, “I will greatly rejoice in the Lord, my whole being shall exult in my God.” And finally, Mary, “My soul magnifies the Lord, my spirit rejoices in God my savior.” Taken together, these texts place Mary squarely in a long lineage of prophets.  And as they each go on to list the greatness of God’s hand in their lives and in the world around them, we can see how clearly Jesus himself participates in this tradition with his later delivery of the Beatitudes.


But here is where Mary, and Jesus like her, differ from the prophets before them, or rather offer us an evolution of the tradition in which they participate.  While they all start off more or less the same – “My spirit rejoices in God!” –  they end up taking a slightly different but very important tack from there.  “I rejoice in God,” they proclaim, “because God has done great things for me.”  And what do these great things look like? For the prophet singing in Isaiah, it is the declaration of a Jubilee year during which the poor will have their debts forgiven.  Thank God.  For Miriam it is the safe passage through the Red Sea in which her enemies have just been drowned.  And for Hannah, like so many others, it is the announcement of a successful pregnancy.  Thank God who has done great things for me, and others like me.  And while Mary sings to Elizabeth with joy over their pregnancies, and like those before them, thanks God for their good fortunes by extolling the virtues of a God with a preferential option for the poor and suffering, she ever so slightly shifts the dichotomy toward what I believe is a more truly divine vision for the world.


The psalms and the prophets often tend toward a far-off judgment day when God will reverse the fortunes of all and the poor and hungry will be sated while the comfortable will become the new poor and hungry.  Status quo maintained.  But Mary, and Jesus later in his Beatitudes, deliver this by now familiar prophecy with the subtle lack of stark oppositional statements.  And it’s so subtle it’s easy to miss.  Yes, God has lifted up the lowly, but not to the thrones from which the mighty were cast down.  Yes, God has scattered the proud in their conceit.  And yes, God has filled the hungry with good things, but the rich have been sent away empty.  Empty of what?  If we read Mary as a prophet of the Kingdom of God as proclaimed by Jesus, then we must read these words in a very particular way.  And this gives us a clue to the deeper meaning of Mary’s vision for the Kingdom of God.  The Greek word for “empty” as in devoid of content, having nothing, my pockets are empty, is kenoó.  But the word Mary uses is kenos, “empty of moral content, vain”.


And what this tells us, as she sings of the Kingdom of God in the present tense, as a present reality, is about nothing less than the Christian goal of life itself.  That same word is the one from which we get Kenosis, the Christian contemplative practice of intentional self-emptying of ego to make oneself more receptive to God, to make more room for God’s indwelling Spirit.  Reading that word with that possibility in mind – that God might empty the morally bankrupt of their oversize egos – gives us a picture of a kingdom in which all are saved by God’s grace, from each other and from ourselves.  In kenosis we’re given an image of heaven that looks less like a mere reversal of fortune than it does the satiation of all, spiritual and physical.  The earthly rich, the too-powerful are scattered in their conceit, the thoughts of their hearts.  And they are prevented from coming to God – sent away – by their own moral emptiness.  The poor and hungry are meanwhile waiting for salvation from those whose power leaves them lacking.  And God instead of simply reversing their roles with some sort of easy revenge fills their respective emptiness-es until both are made complete.


With these words Mary sings of a God who in the fullness of time makes us all whole.  What would our earthly kingdoms look like if we all lived out these ideals of Mary’s heavenly kingdom?  To lift up the lowly, yes, but also help fill the starved souls of the morally bankrupt rich and powerful who perpetuate such poverty could indeed manifest God’s kingdom here on Earth, the hungry filled and the arrogant emptied of their egos.  It is a radical vision with the very simple requirement of emptying yourself of yourself enough that your very soul magnifies that presence of God waiting to grow within each of us.  Put simply, we just have to get out of our own way.  And it is this simplicity, this radical living in the presence of God, that defines Mary’s life.  So honestly, it should be no surprise then that such an extraordinarily simple spiritual life comes to a close during the Season of Ordinary Time.


Mary’s death is a very ordinary one at the end of an extraordinary spiritual life.  No gruesome martyrdom, no flashy exit.  No, she falls asleep in her old age, as quiet and unassuming as her earthly life.  And yet the legends about what happened next – the Assumption, the Coronation – reveal for all of us the possibility of an extraordinary union following the probability of an ordinary death.  We will all die, and it is likely it will be no flashy show.  But the possibility of what happens next is what Mary has to show us today.  It’s the possibility of our soul’s return to God in glory after a lifetime of hopefully growing closer and closer to that divine reality.  It’s the possibility of finishing that growth, fulfilling our soul’s desire and purpose.  


The poet Rainer Maria Rilke, wrote of Mary’s Assumption that when she ascended an empty seat was waiting for her, and she saw “the empty place, brushed/ by fading twilight, [and it] seemed a small sorrow,/ a trace of loneliness,/ like something that [God] still endured, a remnant/ of earthly time, a dried affliction.”


That loneliness and sorrow paints so poignant a picture of God’s desire for us, earthly remnants each of us, preparing to return to God.  Like Mary, there is an empty seat awaiting each of us in the Heart of God, and like Mary we can each be crowned with roses on the day of our return.  She models for all of us how to live ever more deeply in Christ, how to pray in a way that makes the line between self and Godself finer and finer still, and how to die fully into the life of God until all we are is One with God.  So, my prayer today is that Saint Mary the Virgin, whose ordinary death highlights the extraordinariness of the soul’s journey to God, be an Icon for us on how to live a holy life and die a holy death, ever working toward our own Assumption into Christ’s heavenly kingdom.  May it be so.  


Amen.


Thursday, August 6, 2020

Feast of the Transfiguration - August 6, 2020



In the name of the One God, who is Lover, Beloved, and Love Overflowing. Amen. 


The last two weeks, I’ve had a lot of trouble sleeping. I lie awake for hours, pressed into the bed by fatigue, halfway to dreaming. One night this week, when I’d finally fallen asleep, I tossed all night dreaming that I was awake, searching anxiously for the key that would let me finally surrender to sleep. The next morning, I woke up convinced that in my frantic dream search, I had found two of the three pieces of my broken heart. Not a bad trade for one restless night, I suppose. 


Praying with that dream, I found myself wondering what I would do if I found that third piece. A voice answered, “I would become all love.” If I found the last piece of my broken heart, I would step out of the prison of my own defenses and I would become all love. 

 

A once broken, walled up heart, united and radiant in love—what better image for the transfigured Christ within and among us? 

 

Peter, James, and John suffered their share of insomnia, too. In an inverse portrait of the scene in the garden of Gethsemane, today’s reading from Luke tells us that “Peter and his companions were weighed down with sleep; but since they had stayed awake, they saw [Jesus’] glory.” (Luke 9:32) Perhaps in that moment some fragment of their own fractured hearts returned to them and they wondered what would happen if their hearts were whole once more. Perhaps they, too, found abundant compensation for a sleepless night. 

 

Certainly, the moment Luke portrays stays with Peter his whole life, laying the foundation for his ministry and martyrdom. A moment so powerful that he commends us to “be attentive to this as to a lamp shining in a dark place, until the day dawns and the morning star rises in your hearts.” (2 Peter 1:19) 

 

We have all had such moments, experiences where, even for a moment, the veil between heaven and earth is lifted, and we see ourselves and all the world around us shining with God’s radiance. We might be tempted to cling to these moments of revelation, but clinging will not do. Rather, we must attend to them as a to a lamp shining in a dark place, trusting that over the course of a lifetime of faithfulness, the day will dawn and the morning star will rise in our hearts. 

 

Our own transfiguration, which is another way of thinking of conversion to Christ, takes a lifetime of gentle attention, until finally we release and become all love. 

 

A friend sent me a card recently with a line from Hafiz. It said “An awake heart is like a sky that pours light.” That one missing piece of our broken hearts is the one Jesus holds within his own, safeguarding it to the day of our return. It may be that that one missing piece is the absence that keeps our hearts awake, weighed down though we may be with sleep and forgetting, the missing bit  that tunes the ear of our heart to listen for the voice of one calling us home again until we, too, can become all love. 

 

Come, transfigured Jesus. Come, and draw our hearts to yours. Enfold and transfigure us. Make us all love. 

 

Amen. 

Sunday, July 26, 2020

Eighth Sunday after Pentecost - Proper 12 A - July 26, 2020

Holy Cross Monastery, West Park, NY
Br. Rober Leo Sevensky, OHC

Eighth Sunday after Pentecost - Proper 12 A - July 26,.2020


Today is the feast of St. Ann, mother of Mary and grandmother of Jesus. I grew up in a town with a large Catholic shrine to St. Ann which, during my childhood, attracted tens of thousands of pilgrims on her feast day, the culmination of the solemn novena or nine days of prayer in her honor. I was fascinated by the place and its devotional life and finally at one point late in my adolescence, I visited the shrine. At the back of the basilica there were desks where one could fill out a card listing various petitions: “St. Ann, pray for good health for X” or “St. Ann, pray for employment for so-and-so.” And there was also a category: “St. Ann, send me...” and there was a box for a Catholic boyfriend and another for a Catholic girlfriend. Given my adolescent condition, I simply couldn't resist. I checked off the appropriate box, dropped it into the slot, and was assured that it would be laid on St. Ann's altar so that, as they said in the novena prayer, she might recommend it to her daughter, the Blessed Virgin Mary, who would lay it before the throne of Jesus who would bring it to “a happy issue.” And he did. Or perhaps St. Ann did. Or Mary. I'm not exactly sure how these things work. I do have to say, however, that they took their time. Nevertheless, I'm happy to say that they came through.

Was what I did then, as a 16-year old, prayer?

As I walk around here, I am always talking to myself audibly—it's true, my brothers tell me so—and I occasionally sigh and say out loud, “Oh God.” Or I echo my godmother and say in Polish: Matko Boska. Is that prayer?

Or when I sit outside and finally stop and look at the River for a few minutes or pause before the Blessed Sacrament or set up for another church service or mop the dining room floor. Prayer?

I have been around churches a long time, but I must admit that I have seldom heard a sermon about prayer. I've been encouraged to pray, of course, and occasionally there has been some brief explanation of the Lord's Prayer offered from the pulpit. But pretty much the topic was avoided. Perhaps the nuts and bolts of prayer are better left to retreat addresses or adult forums after coffee hour or inspirational tracts on sale in the narthex. But the cry of the disciples “Lord, teach us to pray” had pretty much not been a part of the homiletic tradition or even of the parochial tradition in my experience.

I don't think this should surprise any of us. Whatever prayer is, it is intimate and relational, touching on our vulnerabilities and neediness and desires and hopes. Prayer is fire, and like all fire, it must be treated with a certain respect.

Mindful of that old saw that says, “Those who can do; those who can't teach,” I feel a certain reluctance to speak at all about prayer, especially here, before you with whom I live and move and practice praying... practice being perhaps the operative word in this regard. But today's readings are critical for an understanding of at least some of the dynamics of prayer in our own lives and in the life of the world. And I am encouraged in this regard by our community faith sharing earlier this week. Nothing here will be new to any of you, of course, but I believe it needs to be heard again and again. Or at least, I need to say it again and again, over and over, if only to convince myself.

In our first reading from I Kings, we hear the story of Solomon's prayer for wisdom. The young king pleases God by asking for a wise and discerning mind to lead his people, and God grants his prayer. But we must not gloss over too quickly how this story begins. God appears to Solomon in a dream and asks him: “What should I give you?” Or to put it another way, God asks Solomon: “What do you want?” This is not a rhetorical question. It is a question inviting each of us to take a good look at ourselves and see what it is that we really want right now. Not what we think we should want, or what we think God wants us to want, but what we actually do want, or at least what we imagine we want. And that is generally not quite as pretty or noble or as “spiritual” as Solomon's desire for a discerning mind. But then I'm not Solomon, nor are you.

As so often happens in the healing narratives of Jesus, the process begins with our Lord asking his conversation partner: What do you want me to do for you? Do you want to be healed? Do you want to see again? Do you want to be made whole? Do you want me to do something for someone you love...or perhaps for some you may feel a little ambivalent about? What is it that you desire?

There is a rich literature about the role of desire in the spiritual life. In a nutshell, it comes down to accepting that we must begin where we are, with our true desires or perceived wants or needs, however quotidian or petty they might appear. We begin there. And though we may begin there, most of the time we don't end up there. The naming of our desires and longings before the face of God and in the light of God's own dreams and desires for us and for all creation leads to a merging of horizons and a melding or a transformation—I'm tempted to say, transfiguration—of our desires. It is said that prayer changes things, and perhaps the first thing it changes is us. Prayer has the power to refine our hopes, widen our interests, kindle, or rekindle love, reorient our passions and open new vistas, however narrow, where the light may break through. “What should I give you?” Prayer begins there, with the question God asks of Solomon and of us all.

Our second reading is perhaps even more important to those who aspire to live a life of prayer. It contains of course those words from the 8th chapter of St. Paul's Letter to the Romans: “The Spirit helps us in our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but that very Spirit intercedes with sighs too deep for words.”

We do not know how to pray. We really don't. Which doesn't mean we can't or shouldn't try, though the painful truth is that all our attempts, insofar as they are ours alone, will be imperfect and probably unsatisfying. But St. Paul tells us that we are in fact not alone, that the very Spirit of God is praying in and through us at the most fundamental level of our being, at that very center point of our existence that we call our soul. Right now. All the time.

What we can offer, maybe all that we can ever offer, is our intention and attention. First, we offer our intention to draw into deeper union with what English Benedictine theologian Sebastian Moore enigmatically termed the I know not what, an experience that all people have, potentially if not actually, of being touched by an attraction toward the God who desires us into being and sustains us in existence. It is our responsive desire for union with the mystery which is at the source of all, which is the All. It is, in short, the foundational religious experience.[i]  And secondly, we can offer our awakened attention to what God is already doing in and through and around us right now. Intention and attention.  Beyond that, however, the rest is God's business, not ours.

I remember as a novice meditating at length on the words of Jesus to his disciples on the night before he died as he led them into the garden of Gethsemane: “Sit here while I pray.” (Mark 14:32). This was good advice not just to those first disciples, but also to me. Just sit here and let Jesus pray in and through me. That was for me a liberating word. But it's not an easy word, as most of us know. For it's the very simple sitting, which is to say pausing, stopping, noticing, that becomes the challenge. But that too is part of prayer, isn't it? And even that, in the end, is more about God's work in us than it is our work for God.

The late Sr. Wendy Beckett, the televised art nun, once wrote: “Prayer is the last thing we should feel discouraged about...[it's] the simplest thing out.” My first reaction on reading this was: “Well, maybe for her.” But I'm beginning to believe that she was right. Many people, good Christians and countless others, feel discouraged about prayer and praying, though they need not be. Neither do we. If we offer God the tiniest bit of our longing desire or our wandering attention or our dedicated action, small though it be—tiny as a mustard seed is tiny—God will work with us and through us, bringing it all to maturity, to that happy issue mentioned in the novena prayer. It may take time, maybe a long time—as my experience of St. Ann's intercession did so many years ago. Indeed, sometimes it takes a lifetime. But as one of my Jesuit professors used to ask: Quid hoc ad aeternitatem? What is that in the light of eternity? We have an eternity. And we've only just begun. And really, God is not in a hurry. Still, imagine what might happen if we seize this one present moment, this holy pregnant Now, filled as it is with never to be repeated opportunities and untold possibilities, and with interior desires and cultural longings and societal groanings ripe for transformation. This is the time for fervent prayer. It is always the time for fervent prayer. So then, friends, let us pray. Let us pray. Let us pray.

Amen.



[i] Barry, William A., S.J.  Finding God in All Things.  Notre Dame, IN: Ave Maria Press, 1991. Pp. 34-37.